


Pancakes Are the Point

by keeponshouting



Series: To Be Wild [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeponshouting/pseuds/keeponshouting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has Bahorel and Feuilly over for a special breakfast and broship ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes Are the Point

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lovely anon ask me for some fluff a while back and, well, this is what ultimately came of it, I suppose! Just a slice-of-life bro fic.

"Bahorel?"  
  
"Hmmngh?"  
  
"B, are you awake?"  
  
Bahorel groans and buries his face in his pillow before mumbling, "Wha' d'ya want, R?"  
  
There's a long enough pause that Bahorel lets one eye crack open to squint at the shape of his friend, swaying in the doorway.  No.  No, bouncing.  He is bouncing in the doorway.  What fucking time is it?  
  
"R, the fuck are you--"  He has to pause a moment, check the sound of breathing at his elbow.  Feuilly is still sleeping, almost entirely covered in blankets somehow, even though it's over one hundred degrees, only the tangles of his hair standing out.  Bahorel turns back to squint, realizes he can't make out any of R's features because the man's standing in front of the sunniest window in existence, and lowers his voice when he speaks again.  "What are you doing?"  
  
Grantaire shifts to one side, pauses when Bahorel throws a hand up and hisses, then shifts back into the middle of the doorway.  "I'm making breakfast.  Just wanted to let you know.  It may have a bit of cat hair in it."  
  
From the pile of pillows, a muffled voice asks, "Will it have anything else in it?"  
  
R tilts his head.  "What?"  
  
"What, he says."  Bahorel snorts.  "R, baby, the last time we had breakfast 'round yours, the coffee was half whiskey and your green eggs and ham lit my head up like a firework."  Feuilly outright giggles and Bahorel aims a well-place slap at a particular pillow.  "Don't start, Poland."  
  
"Start what?"  An arm snakes out to cuff the bigger man upside the head.  "It was cute."  When Feuilly finally sits up, his hair is still doing something fascinating, like challenging all laws of physics, and he yawns while glancing around himself.  "Didn't we have a visitor last night?"  
  
Bahorel is slowly climbing to his feet but also pauses to look around.  "Huh?  Oh yeah.  I think she had to work this morning."  
  
Feuilly hums, nods, and flops backward again.  
  
R is bouncing again.  "So are you complaining about my cooking or--?"  
  
"I'm coming."  Bahorel grunts and shuffles over to his closet.  "I'm also making the coffee this time."  
  
From where he's attempting to detangle himself, Feuilly adds, "And you're cutting the green portion of whatever you're cooking in half."  
  
Grantaire's silhouette perks up a little. "But not cutting it entirely?"  
  
The other two look to one another and shrug.  
  
"I miraculously have off for approximately the next thirty-six hours."  Giving up, Feuilly just crawls across the floor until the sheets and blankets are all left behind him.  Bahorel's laugh at that earns him a kick to the hamstrings that nearly makes his knees buckle.  
  
  
  
Fifteen minutes later, both dressed, faces washed, and hair tamed, the two find themselves joining their friend back in his kitchen next door, where Bahorel instantly sets to making coffee.  He is no man of habits but his friends are and they're certainly going to need their caffeine.  Meanwhile, Feuilly shoos cats away from the sink so he can wash a few dishes and R sings the occasional bits and pieces of some miss-matched pop tunes, dancing in front of the stove.  
  
"So what's for breakfast?" Feuilly moves a kitten off the counter.  "How much do I have to wash here?"  
  
"One plate first!  Before I burn the pancake!"  
  
A plate obediently appears and Bahorel answers the actual questions.  "Looks like pancakes, bacon, and coffee."  
  
"There's also milk."  Grantaire flips the first pancake out of the pan and starts the next.  "Enjolras made me buy some."  
  
His friends pause to glance at one another.  
  
"Oh." Bahorel says, slowly.  "Did he make you buy anything else?"  
  
R shrugs.  "There's a bunch of stuff right now.  We went grocery shopping yesterday."  
  
"Hence the pancakes."  Feuilly dries a mug with a grin and a kitten appears on his shoulders.  
  
Bahorel is a little more openly curious.  "We?"  He begins filling coffee cups as they appear by his elbow and slides one toward Grantaire.  "As in Enjolras didn't just make you buy groceries, he actually took you to do it?"  
  
"Thank you."  Cup in hand, R doesn't even seem to notice at the first sip that the drink is scalding.  "He kept mentioning things I didn't have in my kitchen so I told him to make me a list and he did."  
  
Feuilly laughs.  "I'm willing to bet that list is the one you had tacked to the fridge for a week.  Am I right?"  
  
R gives a dismissive wave of his spatula.  
  
"It took a week," Bahorel mutters.  
  
Feuilly smacks him with the dish towel.  
  
"I had that commission I had to finish so I was distracted and I kept forgetting to get one of you to take me into town or pick stuff up or whatever."  R continues talking, entirely oblivious to his guests exchanging meaningful looks and strange faces behind him.  "He stopped by right after I'd finished painting and saw the list was still there and I needed out of the house so--"  
  
Bahorel leans back against the counter, coffee held up under his nose to hide his grin.  "I bet he made you take a shower first, didn't he?"  This time he catches the towel that strikes out at him and drags Feuilly across the kitchen with it, seating them both at the table.  
  
"I'd just finished painting," R repeats.  It's obvious from how clean he is that he hasn't been painting since.  
  
"So," Feuilly pipes in as he sinks into his chair, "what are the odds Enjolras is going to keep wandering into our neck of the woods and trying to make you live like a civilized human being?"  He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs, a sound of bliss.  
  
Bahorel snorts.  "Right?  What if he starts being a good influence on you or something?  Need to make sure we keep you properly unbalanced."  
  
R just rolls his eyes as he brings the pancakes and bacon over and plops down between his friends.  "I am an enigma, maze and minotaur alike."  He snatches up a pancake as soon as his hand is free of the entire plate and stuffs half of it in his mouth, chews, swallows, speaks.  "Enjolras has neither the time nor the energy to spare for hunting hungry bull-headed men."  
  
Feuilly drags some breakfast onto his plate.  "Yet he stops into this labyrinth at least once a week to make sure the beast is still alive and fed."  
  
"I think he actually just stops to make sure I've not died and been eaten by the cats without anyone noticing."  
  
"We live next door.  We'd notice," says Feuilly, in perfect time with Bahorel spluttering out a laugh.  
  
"He took you grocery shopping!"  
  
Grantaire just blinks at them and keeps eating.  
  
Bahorel tilts his head.  "You've got to admit, taking you out to get milk, eggs, and white bread is a little less nonchalant than making sure you're not cat chow.  Hell, if he didn't live across town, it'd be downright domestic."  
  
Feuilly chuckles into his coffee.  "Domestic like we're domestic?"  
  
"Yeah, no."  Bahorel points across the table with a fork and a smirk.  "Ours is a very special sort of domestic."  
  
"Special is a word for it."  
  
R snorts.  "As is domestic."  
  
Bahorel snaps his attention to R with an all too serious expression at that, too serious to actually be taken seriously.  "Dude, promise me - we're your best friends and neighbors and we love you and I swear to God you better promise me - we will be the first to know if Enjolras brings somebody back here for a threesome."  
  
Feuilly kicks him so hard in the shin that he actually knees the table while Grantaire proceeds to choke on his pancake.  "Just for that, I vote he text Jehan first."  
  
"When?  The moment there's a chance of a threesome or just the moment Enjolras shows up looking for sex?  Ow!  Jesus!  Stop pulverizing my shin!"  
  
The look on R's face says he's currently both too sane and too sober for any of this.  
  
Feuilly just picks up a pancake and flings it with a scowl.  It's caught without hesitation and Bahorel takes a large bite, around which he mutters, "It's a valid question."  
  
R mumbles into his coffee.  "But not a valid concern."  
  
When he glances up again, he finds both of his friends frowning.  
  
"Let's back up a minute," Feuilly says.  
  
Bahorel gives him a side-eye.  "Pause and rewind."  
  
Grantaire sighs.  "To what point?"  
  
"To the point-"  Feuilly leans forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped under his chin.  "-where you momentarily took Bahorel's joke into serious consideration."  
  
On R's other side, Bahorel gestures with his fork again.  "Or maybe more specifically to the point where Enjolras regularly stops in to check on you, takes you grocery shopping, left his favorite coat on the back of your dining chair-"  He dodges another kick from Feuilly and leans toward Grantaire with a jab of his eating utensil in the general direction of the seat in question, currently occupied by the aforementioned coat and a sleeping cat.  "-and yet your friends cracking jokes about all this somehow gets all serious and self-deprecating.  How about that point, all right?  Can we start back up from there?  Because I'm no shrink but I'm pretty sure that constitutes a problem we should talk about."  
  
There's a pause, silence, before a cat leaps up onto the table and all three of them shoo it away from their food.  
  
"Maybe," R states after a moment longer, the cat now in his lap instead.  "Just not right now."  
  
Bahorel's frown deepens.  "Why not now?"  
  
Face twitching with a smile, Feuilly takes a sip of coffee.  "Because you even had to ask why."  He takes a bite of bacon.  "Your eyes are dilating."  
  
Bahorel blinks.  "Oh."  Then he grins and starts eating again.  
  
Grantaire hums and sinks into his chair.  
  
  
  
Later, atop Bahorel and Feuilly's bed, all tangled up in a pile of blankets and pillows and limbs, R hums again and his friends' arms lazily find their way around him from either side.  When Bahorel had stopped giving dramatic readings of terrible romance novels, Grantaire can't quite remember, though he supposes it probably coincided somewhat with the point at which Feuilly had started laughing so hard he'd begun to hyperventilate.  Now they're just comfortable.  Bahorel's chin rests against the top of R's head.  Feuilly's nose is tucked in behind R's ear.  Grantaire's pretty sure that both of them are falling asleep but he doesn't mind so much.  It's begun to rain out and the bed is warm and there's a cat curled up on his stomach and he is rather sleepy.  
  
When Jehan finds them like that, he makes sure to take a few pictures before waking the lot.


End file.
